Chapter Two – Of Anomalies and Atmospheres

Trip took the captain's advice and assigned someone to cover his shift. T'Pol, however, appeared on the Bridge in plenty of time for duty. Archer turned in his chair as she entered the Bridge, and nodded a "good morning" as she assumed her station. He heard Hoshi inquire politely about the First Officer's health, and then the Bridge was quiet once more. Given the skin tight nature of T'Pol's "catsuits," it should have been obvious that she was more than a third of the way through her pregnancy. But Archer supposed Vulcans did pregnancy as they approached everything else – with restraint; weight gain, swollen ankles, and morning sickness would, no doubt, be considered undisciplined and illogical.

Archer stared at the figures marching across his padd; he was obsessed, it seemed, with mapping every square centimeter of this space they traversed. When the ship's future crew were faced with the Xindi probe's launch more than a century from now, they would know every parsec like the backs of their hands. And armed with that knowledge, they would be able to intercept that weapon and save seven million lives.

"Captain," T'Pol said quietly, "I am picking up a ship on long range scan. It is emitting an automated signal, perhaps a distress call."

"How close?"

"Forty thousand kilometers." T'Pol gazed into her scope. "It appears to be trapped in an anomaly field."

Archer perched on the edge of his seat. "Send the coordinates to the helm. Travis, let's take a look."

"Aye, sir," responded the helmsman, bracing himself for the tricky business of anomaly-surfing.

At the edge of the anomaly field, they got a glimpse of the stricken ship, still five thousand kilometers away. Onscreen, it appeared dead in space, except that it was occasionally buffeted by the powerful bubbles that made the Expanse so dangerous.

"Any life signs?" Archer asked in a hushed voice.

T'Pol checked her scans. "One. But I do not recognize the bio-sign." She turned to look at the captain. "It is very weak."

"Hail them."

Ensign Hoshi Sato pressed her earpiece to her head, straining to hear any response to the hail. Other than the distress beacon, all she got back was silence. She shook her head briefly, then her eyes lost focus. "I'm getting something – I don't know what language this is, but it's definitely not an automated recording."

Archer glanced at T'Pol, and made his decision. "Respond that we will attempt to assist. Travis, take us in slowly." The graceful silver ship slipped through the field at one-eighth impulse, dodging the floating, shifting anomalies from long practice. The sensors complained quietly, but Travis ignored them, listening only to T'Pol's firm voice as she guided him through the field.

"Ask if they are able to dock with us," Archer instructed.

There was a pause. "That's affirmative, sir," Hoshi said. "Docking now."

Archer pressed a button on his armrest. "Archer to Reed. Meet me at Docking Port One. Bring a team. Travis, get us out of here. T'Pol, you have the Bridge." He ducked into the turbo-lift.

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was already at the airlock when the captain arrived; he handed over a phase pistol. "It's an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, sir, but it seems that life support has failed. We're waiting for it to stabilize and warm up a little before we open it." He checked his scanner again. "Minimal armaments, nothing fancy." Moments passed, then the go light glowed green, and the door slid open. Triggering the hatch of the docked ship, the captain waited for the security officer to signal clear, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

The ship was small, about twice the size of one of Enterprise's shuttle pods. It was dark and cold, whether to conserve energy or because whatever species it belong to thrived in these conditions, Archer didn't know. He shivered a little and switched on the flashlight Reed handed him.

At first, they didn't see the pilot because it was slumped across the navigational console, hidden by a high-backed seat, unconscious. Reed noticed a set of long, tapered fingers trailing on the deck, next to a discarded glove. Their owner was encased in what was clearly an environmental suit, its face hidden by a helmet. Reed scanned the body and nodded to the captain. "He's alive, barely."

"Archer to Phlox."

"Yes, Captain."

"Report to the docking bay. We have a guest in need of your services."

Only after the doctor had scanned the pilot, and had found no obvious biological hazards, was the alien moved to a stretcher and taken to Sickbay for examination. Reed and his security team were left on the ship to explore and try to determine who and what this creature was.

In Sickbay, the doctor arranged the alien on a bio-bed and proceeded to remove the helmet of the environmental suit. The first thing the captain noticed was the long, fine hair that draped over the edge of the bed. It was silvery-white of a shade he'd never seen before. The alien's eyes were closed but it – he? she? – gasped sharply. The screens above the bed began to beat and fluctuate wildly.

"Will it live?" Archer asked, unable to take his eyes off the alien.

The doctor nodded confidently. "Well, she's almost suffocated in this EV suit. See, the air tank is just about on empty. I'll have to super-oxygenate her before she goes into shock."

"What is it – she? I mean, do you recognize this species?"

"Hmmm," Phlox said, studying the readings. "I don't think I've come across her kind before, but I'm not sure. I'll need to compare this anatomy to the Interspecies Medical Exchange Database." He concentrated on his scans, adding absently, "I'll let you know when she regains consciousness, Captain."

"Take your time, Doc," Archer said, inching backward toward the door. "Keep me updated." He nodded to the security guard, indicating that she should maintain her position.

Two days later, a MACO corporal rang the chime of the conference room, and escorted the alien inside.

The first thing Archer noticed about the visitor was that her face seemed odd. It wasn't the delicate ridge that formed the bridge of her nose, nor the contrast of the silvery-white hair and the slightly lavender tinged skin. Then it hit him. The alien had no eyebrows. Somehow, this made her black-irised eyes seem enormous. She was of average height, by human standards, about five feet seven, with a short torso and very long arms and legs. She was dressed in clothing the security officers had retrieved from her ship: a brown-gold blouse made of soft material, and black, loose fitting pants. Her shoes reminded Archer of traditional handmade Native American moccasins.

Hoshi smiled encouragingly as the alien walked into the room and was seated. She had already engaged in a few short conversations with the alien, trying to incorporate the alien's language into the Universal Translator, with mixed results. She glanced at her translator screen and said a few words in the alien's language, then indicated with her hand that the alien should speak.

She did, and the sound, to Archer, was like water being poured into a crystal goblet. He couldn't tell where one word ended and another began; there were no pauses. Hoshi nodded some more, receptively, until the translator began to emit words, then whole sentences.

"-- Trying to locate my ship." She stopped, hearing the English translation, and looked around the table.

Archer leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. "My name's Captain Jonathan Archer, and you're on the starship Enterprise." He gestured around the table. "This is my First Officer, Sub-Commander T'Pol; my Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed; and you've already met my Communications Officer, Ensign Hoshi Sato."

The alien's first question did not come as a surprise. "What kind of creature are you?"

"I'm human; I come from a planet called Earth." There was such a long, puzzled pause that Archer began to think the UT was not working. He looked at Hoshi, who shrugged.

Finally, the alien said. "I am Esilia-lavaoss-saanaa. I am Ikaaran. I am a scout for the vessel Tanaar."

T'Pol took over the interview, her measured tones neither threatening nor curious. "Your scout ship is docked with us. We found you in an anomaly field. You sent a distress call. Do you remember that?"

Esilia said, "I remember finally getting a response to my signal, but not much after that."

"How did you get trapped in the field?" T'Pol asked.

"I was scouting for trinium deposits, which is –" Esilia stopped, as if unsure how much to reveal to these strangers. "I was supposed to rendezvous with the Tanaar in eight – " here she used a word that sounded like a gargle. "When I got to the rendezvous site, there was no sign of the Tanaar. I waited, then I began a search, tracing their anticipated course. I began to run out of food, then fuel. I shut my non-essential systems down, and then most of the essential ones. That was a mistake, apparently, because I started to drift. I was caught up in the anomaly field, and had no thrusters; I couldn't get out. So there I stayed until you rescued me." She turned large black eyes to the captain. "I thank you."

"You're welcome," Archer responded. "How long were you out there?"

"The Tanaar was due to meet me seventy-one laoggaoal ago." There was that gargle-word again. Archer looked helplessly to Hoshi for a translation, since the UT seemed disinclined to try.

"It's a time measure, sir," Hoshi explained. "Seventy-one of them works out to ninety-six Earth standard days."

Archer turned to Reed, who confirmed, "Sir, that's consistent with the ship's logs."

Esilia bristled. "You read my logs?"

"Of course we did," Archer answered mildly. Hoshi had had little trouble deciphering the Ikaaran's written language.

"Then what was the point of this conversation?" she asked, sounding irritated.

Archer smiled thinly. "To see if you'd lie." They stared at each other for a few uncomfortable moments, the alien obviously angry at the presumption of these humans, the captain daring her silently to complain. Finally, Esilia said stiffly, "I have told you the truth. I have nothing to hide."

"Hmm," Archer replied noncommittally. "My medical officer says you have recovered fairly well. Is this environment comfortable for you?"

Esilia thought for a moment. "Your air is thirsty, and it's very cold in here," she answered truthfully.

T'Pol responded, "It would be simple enough to adjust the environmental controls in your quarters to something you can tolerate. The rest of the ship must remain at human normal, but the quartermaster can provide you with additional clothing." In her years on Earth and on Enterprise, T'Pol had become accustomed to the cooler temperature favored by humans; the ship was maintained even a few degrees lower than the average San Francisco climate. The crew wore layers of clothing to compensate; she herself was grateful that her own clothes were thermal in nature, otherwise she, too, would be freezing all the time. The captain had allowed her to keep her quarters at a higher temperature than the rest of the ship, closer to but not as high as the heat of Vulcan, for her own comfort and general health.

"My Chief Engineer tells me that many of your ship's systems are badly in need of repair," Archer went on. "With your permission, I'll have a team start on that right away."

"The anomalies damaged most of my sensors."

"That," Archer agreed, "plus the fact that, without life support, the temperature inside of your ship was heading towards absolute zero. The systems that weren't damaged in the anomaly field gave out because of the cold."

The alien flexed her right hand, which had been exposed to the extreme cold when she'd taken off her EV glove to manipulate the docking controls. "I would appreciate any repairs your team could make."

The captain stood, and offered a more sincere smile. "You are welcome to stay aboard as our guest. As I said, we're happy to make whatever repairs to your ship that we can. And we'll do our best to locate the Tanaar. You can have access to the public areas of the ship. There are restricted areas, however, where you can't go. Please respect them. The MACOs will detain you if you wander into unauthorized areas. Or, they may just shoot you," he added, still smiling. "Let us know if there's anything you need. T'Pol, I'll see you on the Bridge." He nodded to the group and left.

As he strode down the corridors toward the Bridge, Archer reflected that he may have seemed a bit harsh with the Ikaaran. Maybe it was her challenging manner that made him want to push back and establish his authority. He hoped not; that'd be childish. Perhaps it was only that he had finally learned his lesson about letting strangers roam at will throughout the ship. His naïveté had cost the life of an innocent crewmember, blown away by a suicide bomber. And his distraction by yet another beautiful alien had led to the creation of the biological weapon now locked in Daniels' quarters. It had taken both tampering with time and sheer luck to avoid . . .

Whoa. Yet another beautiful alien? Where the hell had that come from? Don't even think about it, Archer chastised himself, shaking his head. Being attracted to alien women never works out for you. In fact, your track record sucks. He walked faster, trying to escape his ridiculous, dangerous thoughts.

He cruised through the Bridge, pausing long enough to make sure that the ship's status was normal, then ducked into his Ready Room. He called up his latest mapping data. Wrapping his mind around astrometric calculations always worked to banish a certain Vulcan from his brain; no reason it shouldn't work for the Ikaaran as well. But no matter how hard he stared at the screen of his computer, he could only see the large, black, browless eyes of the visitor.